


America

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [85]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Claire and Jamie rest and reconnect in the aftermath of 03x13





	America

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/168505937007/imagine-either-before-culloden-or-duringafter) on tumblr

“I’m so sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Oliver – ”

“Patsy, please. And trust me, it’s no trouble – what with the ship run aground on the mud flats and all the colorful sailors…we haven’t had this much fun in years!”

Claire nodded a quiet thanks, sinking gratefully onto the sinfully soft mattress, Jamie’s hand clutched tightly in hers.

“You’ll find some fresh clothes in the cabinet – just some spares we keep for guests who decide to take a swim in the ocean. The clothes are worn but they’ll be clean.”

Jamie squeezed Claire’s hand. “Thank ye – we’ve a trunk wi’ some things on the ship, but this will tide us over. May we leave our clothes outside somewhere to dry?”

“You can just leave them on the porch – Polly will come along and fetch them. She’s a fine hand with a needle, too – will have you stitched back up in no time.”

Patsy Oliver stepped away from the door, allowing the fair-haired Polly to pass, lugging the final steaming bucket of hot water across the room and pouring it into the tub.

Jamie’s thumbnail scraped the inside of Claire’s wrist.

“Our deepest thanks to ye, and yer husband.” Jamie’s voice was quiet. Sounding so very tired. “For yer hospitality no’ just for Claire and me, but for our son and daughter-in-law and nephew and all the others on the ship.”

“Nonsense – there’s plenty of rooms to spare in this old house.” She paused, eyes sparkling. “Though something told me that you and Claire would enjoy this cabin to yourselves.”

Claire swallowed.

“There’s a basket with fruit and bread and cheese on the table over there – meals are in the main house. Don’t worry about a schedule – we’ll accommodate you.”

Polly skittered out of the room. Patsy curtseyed.

“Thank you.” Claire met the eyes of this kind, generous woman. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are.”

Something flashed across Patsy’s face.  “I – Joseph and me, we were parted for four years between when he left England and when I arrived here. I – I know what it’s like to want to be alone.”

Jamie opened his mouth to reply – but Patsy Oliver had already left the cabin, gently closing the door.

Claire rose – and Jamie tugged her hand so that they faced each other. His forehead sank against hers, the sand on her skin rough against his. Eyes closed. Breathing. Savoring.

Suddenly it felt as if all the breath had left his body – and he gripped her shoulders to stay upright.

“Come,” she whispered, pulling away slightly – still gripping his hand – leading him across the room so that she could bolt the door, and then back so that they stood beside the steaming tub.

He followed her – incapable of speech. Eyes wide and shining with feeling.

“Let’s clean up, aye?”

Jamie blinked, startled. “Aye,” he rasped.

–

Claire sat up a bit higher against the copper back of the tub. Laughing.

“Are you trying to drown me, woman?” Jamie spluttered, bent double between her legs, wet ropes of hair hanging from his scalp.

“You’re so bloody big – hold still. There’s still some sand or dirt or something right there at the back.”

She pushed his head below the waterline again, scrubbing at the nape of his neck.

He surfaced a moment later, gasping for breath.

“Done now?”

“Not quite – hold still. I’m checking you for cuts.”

He sighed theatrically, but obeyed, running one hand up and down her shin, cupping her knee.

“I’ve bruises aplenty – but I dinna feel any cuts. No’ fresh ones, anyway.”

“And I don’t see any. Good. Can you turn around?”

He could – though it required quite a bit of care, so that he didn’t slosh half the water onto the stone floor.

The only way they could make it work was for her to shift up a bit and settle on his lap. Not that either of them minded.

Gentle fingers skimmed his cheeks, his neck, his chin, his brow.

“How do I look, Dr. Fraser?”

Cheekily he kissed her finger as it flitted past her lips. His hands – beneath the surface – cupped her arse.

She licked her lips. “Well, I suppose you’ll live to see another day. No lasting injuries.”

“Save my heart,” he murmured. Her eyes shifted to meet his. Dark. Deep. Intense.

“Losing ye – seeing ye washed away before my eyes. And then finding ye, but thinking ye dead…”

“Oh, Jamie,” she sighed, throwing her arms around him. Gripping him tight.

Sobs silently hiccupped through his body.

“Sshh,” she soothed, hands skimming the scars on his back, the sinew of his shoulders.

Shakily he breathed in and out – and she matched his breaths.

“May I care for ye now, Claire?” he asked quietly after a long while.

She pulled back a bit, and he cupped the back of her head in his big, gentle hands, and she let him lower her beneath the surface of the water.

–

Moonlight – clean, healing – poured through the open window. Casting Jamie half in shadow, beside her on the bed.

Claire realized they hadn’t stopped touching each other since he helped her stand on the beach, and they had followed the Olivers to the wreck of the Artemis. Even amid the hugs and shouts of joy from Fergus and Ian and Marsali and Leslie and Hayes and all the crew, they hadn’t stopped holding hands. Not willing – not even for a second – to be parted from each other.

They both were still not willing – countless hours after Jamie had finished washing her, dried her, and carried her to the bed, checking every inch of her body with his hands and lips, kissing her new cuts and bruises.

“Perhaps it’s not the heather – but I’m willing, and naked, and we’ve plenty of space,” she whispered.

Jamie reached for the table beside the bed, fetched a peach, took a bite, and offered the fruit to Claire. She took two bites of her own, swallowed, and moved in for a long, slow, sweet kiss.

“Aye,” he breathed against her lips. “We do. Ye ken it’s no’ that I dinna want ye, Sassenach – only, the feel of ye here, wi’ me – that’s enough. More than enough.”

She snuggled closer to him beneath the quilt, locking her legs around his hips, settling her head beneath his chin.

“No’ that I willna want to sometime later, of course.”

The rumble of laughter in his chest was the most beautiful feeling in the world. In this new world.

She kissed his collarbone, and he held her tighter, and there was peace.


End file.
